


A Passion For Plot

by tangentti



Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie, The Murderbot Diaries - Martha Wells
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 00:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangentti/pseuds/tangentti
Summary: Murderbot is surprised to find a fellow traveler in transit, who knows nothing of Sanctuary Moon.





	A Passion For Plot

It was three days into the middle of nowhere, traveling from a colony distinguished by being the origin of many of the cheap character actors used in the background of Sanctuary Moon, to the space station which doubled for the imperators palace, when I discovered that I had failed as a security-trained entity and heard the intruder. My current ship was good company, in that it left me alone, and in turn I ensured that it was left alone, which should have been an easy task in transit. A moment’s query to ship’s systems, and I answered my own riddle: who is onboard if not crew, stowaway, passenger, cargo or equipment?  
The supernumerary personnel and registered shareholder was singing, off-key in a cracked baritone, and calmly pouring liquids (heated, minimal threat) in the galley. Cameras, once I thought to look, registered a tall, darkskinned individual with shaved head, and infrared suggested notable implanted equipment beneath the long sleeves and gloves. An augmented human, much like I pass as, and also with access to ship systems, as the brown eyes shifted gaze to the visible camera node, and a single leather-coated hand reached for a second cup and set it on the tiny table.  
I ran a quick query to the social disguises database, and it suggested mirroring the subject to appear friendly and approachable. ART had given me hair, a check mark against, I was wearing clothes, check mark for, and appeared augmented, check mark for again. Two out of three was sufficient to make a quick foray and then never speak to them again. Best to get this over with and done, I walked at human rates, with faintly erratic step to the galley.  
“There you are,” the unknown said, “I have prepared tea.”  
Let it be clear: I can drink, and eat, but it’s really not necessary as a habit. But it is important when pretending to be a human. “Thank you. I would like some tea.” That didn’t sound forced at all. Up close, I could read more of the signature of the augmentations. Many question marks were being returned by the analysis subroutines, and threat assessments were suggesting the seated person was extremely dangerous. I dragged the other chair out and dropped into it.  
We both stared at each other, direct eye contact. I blinked, erratically, pseudorandom numbers pretending to humanity. My opposition didn’t bother, and blinked every 5.5 seconds, confident in never being mistaken for a robot. My internals ran for 300 seconds, neither of us speaking or making a significant movement. Social cue database was suggesting I say something, but I resisted.  
“Tea has steeped,” the human announced, “I shall pour for you.” An artful dance of fingers reached for the pot, lifted effortlessly, and poured accurately into the cup on my side of the table, and returned the pot to the trivet. A short pause, “In my culture, it is appropriate for you to pour now, but please inform me of your wishes.”  
I reached for the pot, and ignored the prompts of the cue database, “What were you singing?”, I said, and poured tea, a slight circular error added, but not enough to splash. I thought the tune sounded familiar, background music in episode 57, but it was hard to tell given the quality of performance, and the words were very different, nonsense syllables.  
“Just a song, I suppose you could say of my people. Do you sing?” The clever hands reached for their cup, holding it up for a brief moment to smell the vapors, and then taking a tiny sip. “I collect songs.”  
“I don’t sing.” I held the cup up and let the chemosensors check for toxins. I set the cup down again. “I collect serial media.”  
“An archivist, then?” Again the elegant motions.  
Sure, let’s go with that over illegal killer robot violating intellectual property rights and impersonating a citizen. “Yes. I have an extensive collection, although my favorite is _Sanctuary Moon_.”  
“I am not familiar with this object.”  
“It’s a serial drama. I was curious, because you were singing a song I recalled being used in an episode. It’s the one where Zhong-Cai confronts his clone-assassin.” And the human mimicry has failed again. They just told me they were unfamilar, and yet I am making reference to individual episodes.  
“Clone-assassins often cause trouble, yes. Not usually known for their singing.” I suspect that expression is a smile, a bare hint of muscles contracting. ”Is it researching these details that causes you to travel?”  
“Yes.” The social database approves, agreeable people are liked, and not revealed as monsters. “In part.” Why am I saying these things? This person doesn’t shout facial expressions at me, seems distant enough to give me room.  
“In part?”  
“I have, people, who are important to me, but if I am with them I can only be what they expect me to be. Only when I’m away from them can I grow into myself.”  
“Very wise. I wish I had so profound a reason to travel.”  
Social cue, yes, I know, I thought I had turned off that routine. “Why are you traveling?”  
“I have been wronged, and I need resources to set it right.”  
“Vengeance?” A big part of the Sanctuary Moon through-line.  
“I wish to set it right, if vengeance is what I must perform, then that is what I shall do, but I think healing is a more correct solution.”  
“Are you sure you haven’t seen Sanctuary Moon?”  
“Yes.”  
“Zhong-Cai,” I begin, “has been maneuvering to cryptic ends, when confronted by a clone-assassin, sent by the immortal clone emperor, to double for Zhong-Cai and destroy his reputation. However, the intruder is missing a crucial fact - why is Zhong-Cai maneuvering in this way - to what end should the clone-assassin work?”  
“The immortal clone-emperor?”  
“Backup bodies, so that no one death can kill the emperor.”  
“Tricky. And the clone-assassin would be another instance of the emperor?”  
“It’s the way the actors inhabit the role that sells it. The actor for Zhong-Cai plays both himself and the clone-assassin in the scene, with very different body language and switching within the assassin role, showing that the emperor-instance can play the role of Zhong-Cai, but is missing one crucial bit of knowledge, and must riddle it out of him.”  
“Surely Zhong-Cai would wish to keep this knowledge to herself, thus buying life?”  
“Exactly, but the assassin plays to his ego, suggesting that as Zhong-Cai is known for persuasion, turning enemies to his faction, that if Zhong-Cai makes his case, then the assassin himself will turn, and Zhong-Cai will have a body double at his call, and insight into the emperor that can be gotten in no other way. If his case for vengeance is so just, let the assassin hear it.”  
“And she says that she has come to heal the emperor from the wound she didn’t know existed.”  
I can tell the augment isn’t accessing external data, we’re in the void, and ship doesn’t have Sanctuary Moon loaded, only I have that. “Yes. And the trap is sprung. The emperor-instance does not know the wound - later we find out why - but has studied Zhong-Cai and knows that in this instance he is telling the truth, and places the assassin-self at Zhong-Cai’s service.”  
“Sound strategy on both sides. Death cannot be reversed, and blind-spots are impossible to detect until after you have discovered them. Where would I obtain this Sanctuary Moon media?”  
“I have the files with me. Want to watch together?”  
“That sounds lovely.” There’s a pause, “When I tell people the story of how i came to view Sanctuary Moon, who should I say introduced me to it?”  
It seems wrong to say my consultant alias, and Murderbot is for me alone. “Call me Eden.”  
“Breq.”

 


End file.
